Temperature
by Primrue
Summary: Pansy and Charlie both struggle to find to right temperature in life. Short story, Complete!
1. Melting Snow

Melting Snow

Done.

She was done.

She was _so_ done.

Four years, she had invested into wooing Draco Malfoy—FOUR— and she was bloody done now.

Pansy huffed as she stomped her way forward, knocking others to the side in panic as she went, every inch of her fighting the urge to go back there and hex the Malfoy heir's little head off. Rage filled her entire being. Rage. It had been like a cup filling to the brim, slowly with time, adding more substance with every stupid thing the blond boy said or did, and it had finally poured over. This was it. She was done.

Pansy reached the doors, and well outside, she attempted a deep and steadying breath of fresh air as a realisation hit her.

Rage. She'd felt _rage_. Not dread as she thought it would be.

It was worth noting that while something that sounded like her mother's voice made itself _very_ known in the back of her head, Pansy felt, at least for now, a tremendous amount of . . . relief. Relief and, of course, anger over wasted time. Well, no more. What point was there in pursuing someone who didn't appreciate you? The way she had deliberately fawned over Draco. . . Pansy was ambitious, but she wasn't delusional. And why waste all that effort?

She lifted her dress, trying not to have the pink and delicate fabric be ruined by the snow and took a few steps along the castle wall. In the distance she heard music playing and her house mates laughing, no doubt at some comment Draco'd made about how he couldn't understand women.

Pansy snorted; allowing herself this 'unladylike' move, seeing as no one was nearby to hear it.

What was there not to understand? _Sure, Draco, I'll stand obediently next to you while your gaze is locked onto Granger the entire Ball._ Honestly, what did he think? Meanwhile, all Pansy had gotten was a "You look nice."It wouldn't have bothered her quite so much normally, for Draco wasn't one to throw compliments along people's way, but to have him stare at Granger— _Granger!—_ and only give Pansy, his DATE, a slight nod and a 'nice', that just wouldn't do. And so, in a very dramatic fashion, she'd untangled herself from his arm, forever.

Save for the festivities going on inside, the night was still and quiet, yet icy cold nonetheless, biting into her skin. This, combined with the thoughts of Draco, brought Pansy's mind to her housemates.

Who else was there?

Though not alike in every way, the boys in Slytherin shared similar traits, and the thought discouraged her greatly. Pansy had lived with the calculated and withdrawn behaviour of Pure-bloods and Slytherins her near entire life and she was sick of it.

Her thoughts were briefly interrupted as a snowflake settled on her cheek before quickly melting, the cold sensation disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. Pansy's eyelashes fluttered, attempting to process what had just happened. She wasn't cold, she realised. She was warm. She was hot.

She was a bloody inferno.

So Pansy decided right then and there to never settle for anyone who couldn't handle her fire.


	2. Handling Fire

Handling Fire

He was done.

He was _so_ done.

For years, his mother had attempted setting him up with women she knew, but no more after this. No more. Charlie was done.

"Mum, I'm fine being single," he'd say, but it was in through one ear and out the other with her. As soon as he came home to visit, she'd have found a 'nice girl from a nice family' for him to talk to. The woman was desperate to meddle in her children's lives, and, as a result, Charlie was now sitting opposite the quite possibly dullest person he had ever had the misfortune to meet. She wasn't bad-looking, and she did have a brain, but by Godric was she not right for him.

Charlie rested his chin on his hand and tried to keep his face attentive and polite as the witch (Gemma? Emma?) spoke about her work. Several times throughout her story, he had to fight the urge to ask her _why_ she worked at the Ministry. How could someone look and sound so dispassionate about what they did for a living and still stay there?

"So, do you like doing . . . what was it you said you did, again?" asked Charlie finally.

The witch blinked. "I work as a statistical analyst, overseeing the growth of magical creatures' population, down at the 'Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures'," she began.

So that explained why his mother thought they'd be good together, thought Charlie.

"And while the money isn't as much as I'd like, it's still something I very much enjoy doing." Gem-Emma adjusted the mug of cold Butterbeer in her hand and took a sip. And that seemed to be that.

Charlie nearly ran out of there when an hour had passed and their lunch date came to an end. He paid for both of them, and thanked her for the time they'd spent together, but making sure to word his thanks carefully so she wouldn't get the impression that he wanted to meet again. Luckily, she appeared to be as relieved as he was that it was over, and he relaxed. He didn't take offence either. If it didn't work, it didn't work.

He exited the restaurant, and as his feet hit the cobble stoned street of Diagon Alley, he took a deep breath. There wasn't as much as a breeze to be had, and he watched as everyone else repeatedly cast cooling charms on themselves and their children.

Charlie, on the other hand, fully embraced the scorching heat of the sun. He worked with dragons for Merlin's sake, there wasn't anything warm that could scare him. While most people ran away from fire, Charlie welcomed it.

And he decided right then and there, to never settle for anyone who didn't possess the ability to burn him.


	3. Perfect

Perfect

Pansy traced the lines on her boyfriend's back, seemingly in trance. She stopped when she got to a particularly nasty burn-mark.

"This one?" she asked.

Charlie smiled as he felt where she was pointing. "Romanian Longhorn."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "I was fast, but the dragon was faster."

Pansy arched an eyebrow. "You realise that's your answer to everything, don't you?"

Charlie turned from being on his stomach to his side, watching in amusement as his girlfriend tried to imitate him.

"'Oh, this new claw mark? I tried rolling away, but the dragon was so bloody fast. Look how beautiful the claws were, though'," she said, her voice going as deep a she could without having it be painful. She'd learned her lesson, having overdone it once before; the effort she had put into mocking him resulting in a hoarse throat and a whole day of death glares on her end, while Charlie just fed her soup with a sigh. She continued, "'Yeah, I got stuck and almost flew all the way back to Britain, but only because the speed of this Ukranian Ironbelly and his huge wings. Did you know they're the largest of all dragons?'"

Pansy stopped, twirled one of his locks around her finger, and smirked. "Although, I think my personal favourite is: 'Pansy, I'm telling you I didn't intend on burning the sweater you gave me, it's just that the dragon was faster than me.'"

Charlie laughed. "I told you then, and I'm telling you now; it wasn't on purpose."

She narrowed her eyes at him, no longer surprised to see it had no effect, but she did it anyways. "You hated that sweater."

"You got it for me our first Christmas."

"That's not an answer."

Charlie grinned. "If you think your Slytherin way of getting to the truth is going to help you, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"It doesn't take cunning to find out if you're lying," said Pansy.

"No?"

"No. All it takes is asking your colleagues _nicely_ —in a near Hufflepuff manner with biscuits and all— if they happened to witness the unfortunate incident."

Charlie stopped smiling, while Pansy's smirk had reached its full size. She kissed his cheek and got out of bed, not bothering to cover her naked skin.

At the door, she glanced back and said, "Don't try to outsmart me, dear. You'll find yourself losing far too much."

Charlie watched as her slender body disappeared into the bathroom, and when he heard the shower turn on, he hurried to join her. He grinned at the way she had apparently been waiting for him, and she returned his grin with a smile of her own. When they climbed in and stood together beneath the shower head, they couldn't help but simultaneously marvel at the temperature.

It was perfect.


End file.
